


understanding or; conversations with god

by cloverblob



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, au post 5x10
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 05:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7209395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverblob/pseuds/cloverblob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaw never quite understood Root's relationship with the Machine, but maybe on some level they do understand each other. And maybe on some level they both missed the only person who connected them to the outside world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	understanding or; conversations with god

The first time she hears it, she sees red.

She had been taking Bear for a walk, a stroll up Broadway, when the payphone rang. She'd never been the one to pick it up before, and she didn't care to now.

There isn't much in this world truly capable of getting under Shaw's skin, but Root always has.

"Hi, Sameen. I have a number for you."

She hangs up the payphone and walks away.

  
\--------

  
Harold is sitting at his set of monitors in the subway car when Shaw enters in from the stairway. On the screens are live feeds from various locations in the city, she doesn't know what they're for and she doesn't care to ask.

He hasn't heard her come in, so when she pokes her head in the doorway and begins to talk, he jumps in surprise.

"Tell it to stop calling me," she tells him, her head tilted toward the improvised supercomputer in the corner of the room. Harold has told her that The Machine has already begun sparsing itself across the north-east power grid again, the equipment is essentially just for show. Shaw doesn't care.

"I'm sure she heard you just now either way, Miss Shaw."

She's irked by the ease with which he uses feminine pronouns for the thing these days.

"Tell it anyway," she asserts. "It listens to you."

Harold chuckles grimly. "I think I've given up believing I ever had any control over The Machine."

"I didn't come here for an existential talk, Harold. Just do it or I'm going to pull out every damn cable in that subway car until it gets the message."

She storms off, searching their mini kitchen for a can of beer and replenishment for Bear's bowl. Bear trots over at the sound of his food being dragged out, and follows Shaw intently toward his bed, diving into his meal before she's even finished pouring it out. She gives him a good pat on the head, and sits down beside him on the floor.

Before she has time to crack open the can, Harold makes his way toward her. She doesn't have much patience for this conversation. She's been avoiding it for a reason.

"Perhaps you might consider Miss Groves' feelings on the matter," he offers. Shaw doesn't know when Finch became such a big advocate for Root or his pet robot, but right now, it's an unwelcome change.

She cracks the beer can open with a snap and fizzle, quickly lapping up the foam that spills over the edge. "I'm still working the numbers," she responds simply.

Harold seems uncomfortable with her lack of response. Clearly, he wasn't prepared for this conversation with her either. "I know it must be difficult, with all that we've lost, to-"

"What did you lose, Harold?" she interrupts.

He swallows thickly, silent for a few moments. "It's okay to be angry that she's gone, Sameen."

Shaw exhales sharply. "I'm angry because I'm... not," she bites. And now she's angry because he just doesn't get it. Root would get it. Shaw didn't know how to express what she wanted to say, but Root would just know and she wouldn't need to be having this dumb conversation with Harold at all. "She deserves to be mourned."

"We are mourning her. All of us. Root was not alone anymore."

Shaw grinds her teeth even harder. He still doesn't get it. Root deserves to be mourned by her, and she's the only person who can't do it. She takes a drink.

  
\--------

  
John, to his credit, doesn't ask her if she wants to talk about it. And she's grateful for that. He knows she's not wired for a discussion like that, but he does tell her how he feels. She doesn't know what happened but John has changed since she came back too, he's more open as of late. She doesn't like it or dislike it either way, but she thinks it's probably a good thing for him.

When she's sorting her guns on the floor of the subway, he meanders over awkwardly. She can hear him try and clear his throat behind her.

He's silent and hovering, and Shaw immediately feels like tossing an empty cartridge at his head.

"What do you want, John?" she asks bluntly, eyes darting up to glare at him.

"Lionel wants to know what you'd like to do with Root's body."

Shaw clenches her jaw. She wasn't prepared for that question.

"Just let him know whenever you've decided," he tells her, when she's been silent for longer than she realizes. John thinks the conversation has ended, and awkwardly motions to leave.

"I should be taking care of that stuff," she states; whether to him or herself, she doesn't really know.

John is sympathetic, he's tiptoeing."You don't have to, we'll take care of it."

"No. She's my..." Shaw doesn't even know the rest of that sentence. "I'll do it."

John nods.

"She'd like all that frilly shit, wouldn't she?"

He smirks in response, "Maybe she'd want to be buried in a leather jacket?"

"Root's a dumb sap. She'd want purple flowers and a pretty dress. A large woman singing Amazing Grace at the pulpit. Gross."

"She wouldn't care about any of it as long as you were there."

She freezes at that, wonders if this is what people are talking about when they say they feel like they've been hit by a ton of bricks. "Why wouldn't I be?"

John can read between the lines, behind the anger. "She knew, Shaw," he tells her. "She knew you'd be there no matter what."

"I wasn't."

  
\--------

  
"I brought Root's motorcycle down here. For you, if you want it."

Shaw doesn't look up from her task at hand. "Thanks," she says, knowing it's the polite thing to do. "Never learned how to ride. You can have it."

He's quiet for too long, so she darts her eyes up to look at him.

"What?" she asks, not a hint of patience in her voice.

"She said she could teach you, if you wanted."

Shaw doesn't bother to give the idea any thought. "Root can't teach me how to ride a motorcyle, John. Because Root is dead."

"You know she doesn't see it that way."

Shaw scoffs. "Since when are you the expert on Root?"

John looks down at her. He doesn't know what to say, not for something like this. "When you were gone, I sat in a lot of cars with her. And she... talked. A lot."

"Did you do each other's hair too?" Shaw teases.

But John's face remains sober. "She mostly talked about you. Or The Machine."

Her expression goes cold.

"She wasn't afraid to die, Shaw."

"That's because she didn't value her own life. That thing in there," she points toward the subway car, "it took advantage of that."

"Root wouldn't want you to be angry at The Machine. She would want you to work with her."

Shaw shakes her head. "I'll work the numbers, continue the mission, but I don't care what Root would want. She's gone now."

"I don't think that's true." She doesn't ask which part he's referring to.

Shaw's cell phone rings, and she tenses immediately.

"You gonna get that?"

She picks up the phone and hurls it toward the train tracks. "Tell it to leave me alone."

  
\--------

  
The service is nice.

Shaw picks out a pretty dress she finds among Root's things. She texts The Machine to make sure it was never used for one of Root's covers; something that was hers and hers alone. She needed to make sure Root wasn't hiding anymore.

The man at the headstone company gave her a hard time about the name. Shaw would have castrated him if Lionel hadn't held her back. Sam Groves died a long time ago, and there was no way in hell Root would be buried with that name.

Shaw is pleased when Daizo shows up. She figures The Machine must have contacted him, and she is grateful despite herself.

Harold says a few words for all of them, Shaw wouldn't know where to begin. He cries for them too, because Shaw wouldn't know how to do that either.

No one sings "Amazing Grace", but Shaw shovels the first set of dirt onto the casket and swallows thickly at the finality of it all. She looks up then, across the street toward the traffic camera facing their way.

  
\--------

  
Shaw hadn't told the others about the aftermath of Samaritan's torture. She didn't feel comfortable sharing something like that with the guys. And it hadn't been necessary when Root was always there to stop her from doing anything rash.

The conversation isn't pretty.

Shaw shares her doubts about reality, though. Admits that she isn't convinced that John's really here right now; that any of them are.

"If this is a simulation, then why haven't you tried to kill me?" he asks.

Shaw shrugs. "I don't want to kill you."

"Do you want to kill yourself?"

She doesn't respond.

"I did," he tells her, locking up the pistol back in its case. "Before Finch found me, before Carter. I did and I didn't even know it."

Shaw stares at him. She knows he's trying to be empathetic. It doesn't connect with her. "I don't want to kill myself, John."

"Then what were you doing out on the street corner?"

"I don't like this simulation."

"Shaw, this isn't a simulation."

"I killed myself to keep her alive seven thousand times. Maybe I just need to do it again."

"Did you think we were in a simulation last week?" he asks. "When Root brought you to see us under the bridge?"

"I don't know," she answers.

"If you shoot yourself and this isn't a simulation, then Samaritan wins, Shaw."

Shaw looks unconvinced.

"And if it is a simulation, then you'll wake up eventually and Root will be alive."

That makes sense. "Okay."

  
\--------

  
It's Lionel, of all people, that convinces her to rethink her stance on the issue.

"You know, that computer of yours is just as crazy as Cocoa Puffs. The three of you could have given me a heads up, is all I'm saying."

The sight of him in the subway is a little strange. He seems out of place. But neither Fusco or the subway were ever in Samaritan's simulations, so Shaw takes the chance on letting this simulation play out too.

"I get a call this morning, unknown number. Guess who's on the other line? Scared the crap outta me."

This gets Shaw's attention. "What did it want?"

"What? You don't know?"

"I told it not to talk to me," she explains, shrugging.

Lionel gives her a good look. "I thought the two of you were... you know."

Shaw narrows her eyes.

"You know, a thing."

She doesn't want to justify that with a response.

"Look, I'm just saying, she convinced me."

"Convinced you that she's Root? She's not, Lionel."

"Of course it's not her, but what's it matter?" he asks innocently. "It's the end of the world, Shaw."

That's what Root said too.

  
\--------

  
"You know, she could barely believe it the first time you actually hopped on the back of her bike."

Shaw didn't have anything to say to that. But if The Machine really was any good at replicating Root, Shaw knows her silence wouldn't hold her back either way.

"I mean, obviously, she was hoping you would wrap your arms around her waist, but beggars can't be choosers. Are you ready for your lesson, sweetie?"

Shaw freezes. "Don't call me that." There are several moments of silence in response and Shaw is imagining a series of little computer cables fritzing out one by one.

"I'm sorry."

Shaw throws her leg over the side of the bike, puts the key in ignition, and waits.

"Being able to see everything all the time, I may not be very good with boundaries."

Shaw rolls her eyes, completely astounded at how she had gotten herself into this situation. She can't believe a stupid computer is fishing her for reassurance. "Well, Root was," she snaps. "So figure it out."

"You say that, but she would definitely be wrapping her arms around your waist right now, whispering the instructions into your ear. She liked sitting right on the edge of your boundaries."

"Are you sure emulating Root's personality is helping you here? You were more efficient before."

"Just put your helmet on, Sameen."

Shaw shrugs, and straps it on.

"Can you tell me what's what?"

Shaw didn't realize this was going to be a Q & A session too. "Clutch, throttle, uhh, gear shift."

"Okay, good. One little thing I should have asked first: can you even reach the foot brake?"

"Is that a short joke? Seriously? You don't even have a body."

"You're hurting my feelings, Sameen."

Shaw kicks it back to prove her point. "If you annoy me too much, I can just take the earpiece out, you know?"

"Let's not get hasty," she replies.

  
\---------

  
"You've never been in God Mode before," The Machine comments one morning. Shaw knows where this is leading.

"I don't need your help," she mutters quietly. She may have said yes to the motorcycle lessons, but that didn't mean she was allowed to just pop up in Shaw's ear whenever she wanted.

Shaw is sitting alone on the patio of a small cafe, glancing over the espresso menu. The number is two tables away, fidgeting over a cup of coffee, a cheese croissant sitting untouched in front of him.

"How are the lattes here?" she asks, assessing the area for anyone lurking about. She holds her phone under the table, locking onto their number's phone and taking a look through his text messages.

"I thought you didn't need my help?"

Shaw clenches her jaw, spotting an open laptop across the patio and glaring straight into the webcam.

"Sorry," she quips. "I would recommend it with a touch of nutmeg. This cafe uses a notably acidic brand of espresso beans, the nutmeg balances it out. You prefer a thick foam in your caffeinated drinks, and you take your brewed coffee with more milk than the average person, leading me to believe you prefer the dairy products inside of your lattes more than the drink itself."

"You could have just said 'get the nutmeg latte, Shaw', didn't have to be so creepy about it, HAL."

"I don't like it when you call me that."

"I know," Shaw smirks.

"Get the nutmeg latte, Shaw," she replies with a tone of voice that makes Shaw picture a very pouty-faced Root.

So she does. She wonders for a moment if The Machine thinks she doesn't harbour any trust for it. It would be right of course, Shaw's trust is not easily earned. But The Machine never needed to, not when it had Root's trust already in its pocket.

"Why are you talking to me? Isn't it against your programming to interfere with the numbers?" Shaw asks curiously.

The Machine hums in her ear, like she was thinking about her answer first. Shaw finds the sound disconcerting at best. "I make my own rules now, Sameen."

She raises an eyebrow.

"Besides, I'm not interfering, I'm keeping you company."

"You telling me you're lonely, Siri?" Shaw comments. "How do you even feel that?"

"The same way you do," she answers.

Shaw doesn't do empathy, and she doesn't quite consider The Machine to be real. But she gets it after that. Root was The Machine's only companion for a long time.

And Shaw isn't saying that she herself is lonely. She could live in a cave for a million years and it wouldn't do a thing for her, but maybe on some level they do understand each other. And maybe on some level they both missed the only person who connected them to the outside world.

  
\----------

  
Sitting at Harold's desk, popping pieces of chocolate into her mouth, Shaw doesn't know what compels her to ask: "Do you miss her?"

The Machine doesn't respond right away, so Shaw turns toward the webcam on Harold's laptop, letting her know that she's definitely talking to her.

"Yes," she replies. "I don't feel it the same way humans feel longing, though."

"Well, neither do I," Shaw retorts.

"Hmm," The Machine replies. "I guess you're right. Would you like me to explain how I feel? I know you prefer when people explain their feelings rather than leave you to guess."

"Says who?"

"I'm always watching, Sameen."

"Tell me then."

The Machine sighs wistfully before she starts speaking, and it makes Shaw roll her eyes. Which The Machine elects to ignore. "Root was the first human being I ever really spoke with besides Harry. And then he didn't want to talk to me anymore. Root started talking to me before she ever even met you or Harold. She knew I existed, she grew obsessed with me, but she was smart. She outsmarted me. No one had ever done that before."

Shaw smirked. They had that in common.

"I watched her very intently after that, but she knew how to avoid me too. She wanted to help me, but she was hurting people to do it. So I made a decision to do what Harold did for me, teach her to value human life."

"Gonna be completely honestly with you, Cortana. Don't think that lesson ever fully sunk in."

"I think you're right, but at least she stopped killing people," she conceded. "For the most part. Still, I thought I could help change her. She believed in me, I wanted to believe in her too. I had thought that I was doing a pretty good at convincing her that people weren't all bad code."

"You did convince her."

"No, Sameen. She stopped killing people because I told her to, but faith in humanity? She learned that from you."

Shaw scoffs. "Me?"

"She had never been in love before. I can't pinpoint when exactly she fell in love with you, but the first time she told me was that night you spent together destroying the Marburg virus. Do you remember?"

Shaw nods in response.

"You went to take a shower, she wouldn't stop talking about you. Do you want to hear?"

Her jaw clenches. "I don't know."

A still image of Root staring into her cell phone camera shows up on the computer screen in front of Shaw.

"Go ahead."

She pushes play.

 _Root is grinning from ear to ear, lying lazily on Shaw's bed, tapping something on her phone. "Thank you for letting me have the night off."_  
_She sighs._

_"I wish you could talk to me, I'm in dire need of advice. Do you think Shaw prefers pancakes or should I go a little more daring and make some crepes? Provided she doesn't kick me out in an hour." Root pauses to think on that possibility for a moment. "I don't think she will. You would know that probability better than me though."_

_Root shivers a little, and pulls the covers over her body snugly._

_"I think I'm in love with her," she states, plain as day. "I know I said I wasn't sure before, but I know now. When she told me that she turned down the opportunity to run away with that pretty boy thief, I realized it. I would go anywhere she asked me."_

_Root's expression is wistful._

_"Would you be okay with that? I hope so. You know I love you too, but..."_

_"Root," Shaw's voice interrupts, offscreen. "Did you steal my towel again?"_

_Root raises her brows guiltily at the screen, "Oops."_

Shaw swallows thickly as the screen turns back to black. "I thought we were discussing your feelings. Not hers."

"I am, Sameen," she replies softly. "I wanted to show you how much she confided in me. And she did. All the time, about everything, even when I couldn't talk back. She was my best friend."

It had always annoyed Shaw when Root's eyes would glaze over, knowing The Machine was saying something in her ear. Maybe that was just because she'd never heard it as a two way conversation before.

"I've run over seventeen million simulations since the events leading up to her death, there were three million instances where she would have lived and I picked the wrong one."

"Can't change the past," Shaw says,

"It helps me process my grief."

"How?" Shaw asks.

"I like to keep the good simulations going. Watch Root live out the rest of her life."

"Guess we both have to leave our simulations behind and start living in the real world, huh?"

"Are you saying you don't want to talk with me anymore?" The Machine asks.

Shaw thinks she can almost detect fear in her tone. "I'm saying we gotta start accepting reality."


End file.
